Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Tuesday, December 08, 2015

Thirty-five years ago*

thirty-five years ago

early in the morning

driving east into the sun

i heard on the radio

john lennon's days were done

i squinted like a baby

staring at burning angels

their fire came at me like daggers

their purpose came undone

bullets are not saviors

bullets are not hope

lying on the sidewalk

not a pauper or a pope

john was such a dreamer

but not the only one

the price of bullets fired

the cheapness of a gun

no one built a chapel

no one praised a god

no one rode the spirits

no one gave the priest a nod

no one could remember

no one could explain

no one in that december

would see his like again

no one in that december

would see his like again

*Written in remembrance of an awful day in December of 1980--I lived in Southern California and was unaware of John Lennon's murder until I heard about it on the radio while driving south/southeast on the 405 in southern Orange County.